Balding
by The Lovely Cynic
Summary: Having New Year's Eve off was a big event for the Joule team and Dearka was going to take full advantage of it. //Sequel to 'Wrinkles'.//


**Balding**

**Author's Notes: **This is a sequel to **Wrinkles_, _**my last Dearka/Yzak fic. :3 Except this time, instead of being for **anja-chan**, this is for **SlvrSoleAlchmst1**. For her birthday! Which was... actually a few days ago, but a few days is better than a few months!

So, enjoy!

---

Dearka was feeling content.

No... content wasn't quite the right word. He was a sweet and sour, bubbling cocktail of lethargy, sloth and relaxation. He was so _delighted _that the higher-ups had actually agreed to give the Joule team New Year's off. He had all day to do basically nothing. He could lounge around in his room, sipping strawberry margaritas and reading a book until later that night when the champagne got brought out and the party _really _started.

He allowed himself to breathe a dreamy sigh at the mere _thought_. With ZAFT, it was constantly work. Whether he had to train recruits, do some sort of exercise, attend a lecture or write up reports, he was constantly working. Vacations were few and far between, too, so he rarely ever had time off. That's why when he _did _get time, he took full advantage of it.

He got up at noon—which was ridiculous compared to military standards—and took a full hour in the showers. If it was a regular day, Yzak probably would have been there clawing at the door and demanding the bathroom back. But the old man was most likely already awake and doing something 'productive'.

Dearka snorted to himself and slung a towel low on his hips. He stepped out into the steamy, tiled bathroom and immediately walked over to the mirror. Even if it _was _a holiday and he technically didn't have to do anything to make himself look presentable, he was still going to be 'out and about' later that evening and wanted to look good....

He swiped at the mirror to wipe away some of the condensation and stared at his slightly blurred reflection. His hair was damp, messy and dripping in some places. There were still droplets of water clinging to his chest and arms, but his face was already fairly dry apart from a few wet trails down the sides of his cheeks.

He shrugged off his ragged appearance and grabbed another towel to quickly dry his hair and rapidly cooling skin. He hummed to himself as he did, loving the way his voice echoed in the empty, spacious bathroom. He grabbed the plastic tube of hair gel on the counter and finger combed its gooey contents through his hair, giving it that messy-but-put-together look that he was rather fond of.

It was then that he noticed something slightly odd. Maybe it was just his imagination, but... did his hairline look thinner?

He frowned, eyebrows cinching together as he leaned closer to the reflective glass, looking at his forehead from every imaginable angle. He never really took the time to examine himself in the morning, so he very well could be seeing things, but his hairline _really _looked like it had receded since the last time he checked. Unless his forehead somehow managed to get _bigger_, which he doubted was physically possible.

_Was_ it possible? Maybe he should ask a doctor or someone with more knowledge in the subject of human growth than himself. Though it _would _be kind of a stupid question to ask a doctor. What would he say? "Hey, doc, I have a question. Is it possible for a person's forehead to get bigger as they age?" Even the sound of it made him cringe.

No. It was more likely that he was... _balding_.

Crap. He was barely twenty! How the hell could be balding? He didn't notice any hair on his pillow and he wasn't clogging the drain or anything....

Perhaps he was being irrational, though. Even if _he _noticed a slight change, that didn't mean anyone else did. It would be logical—oh, now he was sounding like _Yzak_—to ask someone if they noticed a change. If they did, then his suspicions would be confirmed. If not, he was off the hook until it had receded to the middle of his head. Even then, he supposed that he could just comb his hair _down _instead of back.

"Calm down, you're acting like an old man," he hissed at himself. He stared at his reflection like a professional boxer would his opponent—eyes narrowed and practically glowing in determination. He was almost sure that nobody would notice a change....

With a long, firm breath in, he pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and a tight, black t-shirt and left the room. He put on a cool, calm air, though his mind was still mulling over the fact that _maybe_ he could be aging. The thought made him shudder and actually feel self-conscious. He hadn't felt self-conscious about his appearance since he was fifteen and had acne!

He walked down the halls, hands shoved into his pockets until he reached his room. He hurried in and quickly shut the door, thankful that nobody had been wandering about. Even if he thought that nobody would notice anything, he still didn't want to chance embarrassing himself because his hairline was slowly wasting away....

"Dearka."

The blond whipped around, jumping at the sound of a voice from _inside his bedroom. _"Yzak! When the hell did you get in here?" he sighed, thankful that it wasn't somebody else. But still, it was kind of... frightening to be confronted by somebody creeping around in your bedroom when you weren't there.

"Well, I was _going _to wake you up because you've basically slept the whole day away, _Elsman_, but, as it turns out, you actually managed to get your lazy ass out of bed," the commander snorted, arms folded neatly over his chest.

Dearka arched a golden eyebrow, a rather flat look spreading over his face like melting butter. Well, he was right that Yzak probably woke up at six AM and went off to do something... commander-like. He was even in _uniform_, for Pete's sake. On a holiday!

Though, he had to admit, Yzak _did _look good in that uniform. The stark white fabric did wonders for the silver head's skin, making it look like polished marble—luminescent. His hair, though completely white and stick-straight, actually made him look _younger _than twenty when he handled it like he did. It seemed to fall effortlessly into place, brushing over his cheeks as he moved his head, making his piercing blue eyes stand out and smoulder underneath pale lashes.

Oh _damn_.

He was certainly a striking contrast to Dearka's dark tanned skin, strong stature, thick blond hair and striking violet eyes. The pilot couldn't complain, though, because Yzak certainly didn't seem to mind the way he looked... most days.

"We're on vacation, old man, have a little fun!" He could almost _feel_ the silver haired man bristle at the 'old man' comment as he slipped an arm around his waist. "We don't _have _to do anything. I can be as lazy as I want. Well... until tonight because apparently there's going to be an awesome party that I plan on attending." He grinned, squeezing Yzak's waist.

"If you're trying to get me to go with you, forget it. The last party I went to was my birthday party, which was a complete disaster."

"You stayed for five minutes... maybe," Dearka mumbled, running a hand through his hair. Yzak slipped out of his grip easily and sat down on the bed. "Come on, Yzak, this'll be nothing like your birthday party. I mean, at least you know about it this time, right?" he snickered, leaning against the wall beside the bed.

"Shut up," the commander snapped, lip curling up in a near snarl. "I swear, if you _ever _even try to pull something like that again, I will kill you," he growled, standing up and swiftly making his way to the door. He tilted his head back slightly to give Dearka a scrutinizing look. "I might show up for an hour... _maybe_. Don't get your hopes up. Now, I'm off for some target practice. If you feel like doing something _productive_, you can come with me."

It took a _lot _of effort for the blond not to burst into fits of giggles at that very moment. "No, I... I think I'll pass." His voice sounded strained and high, his throat tightening to keep in the bubbling laughter.

Yzak growled at Dearka's poorly contained amusement and stormed out of the room, leaving the blond to laugh into his pillow.

---

Dearka spent the rest of the day just as he had planned it. He went to the kitchen and blended up some strawberry margaritas, grabbed a book he had been meaning to read and sat by the window in his bedroom. He felt so at ease, staring out into the dark, twinkling void of space, drinking a cool, alcoholic beverage and reading.

It was pretty much the perfect day.

The only thing that could wrap it up into a neat little bow would be the New Year's party that evening. It wouldn't exactly be a _big_ party, considering it was only the Joule team, but it would be a rare event nonetheless. Parties were an uncommon occurrence on ZAFT ships. And when they _did _occur, Dearka was sure to take full advantage of them.

Champagne, music and good conversation.... _that _was definitely an excellent time to be had.

Dearka glanced over at the clock on the wall. Ten thirty-six. He still had about twenty minutes to get dressed into something a little swankier than just sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

He put his book down and headed over to the small closet. He didn't have _many _clothes hanging there—after all, he didn't really need much other than his uniform, something to work out in and a couple of outfits for when he was on leave.

That was why he was finding it incredibly difficult to put together a classy outfit with what he had. He was throwing things out onto the floor like a girl preparing to go on a date. Black button-down shirt... white pants... black pants... white shirt... black-and-white shirt....

Well, now wasn't he diverse?

He scrunched his nose up and pulled out of the closet. He grinned at his own pun before realizing exactly _why _he was so worried about the way he looked—Yzak was going to be there. Well... maybe. It was a completely _ridiculous _thought because he had never cared about the way he looked around the commander before, so why now? It wasn't because it was a holiday, because he had celebrated Christmas with Yzak in boxers and a t-shirt.

Shit. He was acting like a woman.

He mentally slapped himself and picked up whatever clothes his hands happened to find—white pants and a black shirt. He dressed himself in front of the mirror, deciding that he looked perfectly fine to be at a party. He ran a hand through his hair again, feeling happy with his appearance.

And then he remembered his hairline. A sense of dread—and perhaps even fear?—wormed its way into his senses. His hair _still _looked thinner than normal. So... it wasn't just his imagination, then. "Damn it..." he hissed, pressing his forehead against the mirror. He was feeling self-conscious again, a feeling he still wasn't used to. What was he going to do? Was anybody going to notice? Yzak didn't seem to notice that morning, so he _supposed _that nobody else would... hopefully.

He was going to risk it, though. He would arrive at the party, feeling comfortable and confident and not worrying at all about his—possibly—receding hairline. He pushed away from the wall and clenched his fists at his sides. He stormed out of the bathroom and sauntered to the Ready Room, where the party was being held.

The first thing he noticed as he opened the door was that Yzak was not there. Maybe the old man had lied about showing up at all. But, then again, it _was _only ten minutes after eleven and they still had another fifty minutes until they rang in the New Year. Yzak could show up at any minute, raise a toast and leave.

Dearka put on a self-assured grin and mingled with the other pilots in the room. They told jokes, clinked beer bottles, teased each other and discussed the previous year—relationships, battles, training, trips they had taken, etc. The blond man felt more at ease the more he talked and listened, being almost perfectly sure that nobody had taken notice of his hair.

"Okay, guys! They countdown's starting in five minutes!" one of the elder members of the team called out. Dearka frowned and took a glance around the room. _Still_ no Yzak? What was the old man going to do, spend New Year's Eve all alone? How sad was that? He sighed and took a last swig of his beer bottle, placing it down on a table with a few other empties. What was New Year's without your best friend, your lover? It was boring and pointless, that's what it was. Even _Yzak _shouldn't have to spend the holiday alone if he didn't have to—he had Dearka.

With that thought in mind, the blond took off out of the room. He got a few weird stares as he left, but he only had one thought in mind: get to Yzak. Even if he was a grumpy old man, he didn't have to fritter away New Year's just because he didn't like parties!

Dearka traveled at a near run down the winding, white hallways until he reached the commander's room. He figured he probably should knock, but... it didn't look locked. Perhaps Yzak was expecting him? Anticipating him to show up? The thought caused a thrill to flutter through him. Maybe Yzak _wanted _them to be alone.

No... he probably just forgot to lock the door....

The door slid open to reveal a dark room, with the curtains wide open. Starlight filtered into the room, giving it an eerie, but beautiful, silver glow. There was Yzak, sitting on his bed and gazing out the window like a contemplative widow, sharp chin resting on a delicate hand. "I don't see why you didn't come sooner," the blue-eyed pilot grumbled, not even glancing away from the window. "I was expecting to see you half an hour ago."

Dearka grinned, shutting the door and walking over to the bed. He was slightly surprised, but delighted nonetheless. He was right in his assumptions that Yzak wanted a quiet night alone....

He sat down and slowly ran a hand through silver, starlight accented hair, to the back of his neck. The blond rested his hand there, other arm sliding around Yzak's torso. "Am I really that obvious?" he chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of the commander's neck.

"Yes." A ghost of a smile played over Yzak's lips as he leaned back just slightly against Dearka.

"But you did say you were going to be there," the violet-eyed man snorted, resting his chin on the silver head's shoulder. "You can't blame me for not wanting you to be all alone in your room during New Year's, old man."

Yzak growled in the back of his throat and sent a dangerous look the blond's way. "Shut up. You know I hate parties. _Especially _after that stunt you pulled on my birthday!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he sighed, deciding to shut up after that. He glanced over at the clock: fifteen seconds to midnight. "Hey," he whispered, nudging Yzak lightly. "Ten... nine..." he whispered into the other man's ear, smiling widely as he did.

"Four... three..." the silver head carried on.

"Two... one...." Dearka turned Yzak around at that and sighed a quiet "Happy New Year" against his lips before pressing theirs together. It was soft and tender, unhurried unlike it would have been back at the Ready Room with everybody else watching. They took their time—lips moving against lips slowly and warmly, like it should be.

"Happy New Year to you, too, Elsman," Yzak murmured, pulling away from Dearka for a moment. His expression changed slightly as he regarded the blond, pale eyebrows knitting together in what was either anger or confusion. "It might just be me, but... Dearka, are you _balding?_"

---**End**


End file.
